


Horsing Around

by Tiofrean



Category: The Lord of the Rings (Movies), The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: (But Not Too Badly), Brego and Hasufel Are The Heroes Here, Developing Relationship, Faramir and Aragorn in Ranger Disguise, Fights, Fluff and Humor, Horse Dialogues?, How Do I Tag, Injured Faramir, M/M, Post-War of the Ring, Talking Animals, a touch of angst, not in that way
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-04
Updated: 2020-01-04
Packaged: 2021-02-27 13:28:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,744
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22117924
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tiofrean/pseuds/Tiofrean
Summary: A tale of the two noble steeds, Brego and Hasufel, and their adventure on the way to Rohan. If you have ever wondered what they were thinking about, you have to wonder no more!
Relationships: Aragorn | Estel/Faramir (Son of Denethor II)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 34





	Horsing Around

**Author's Note:**

> Soooo... through MermaidSheenaz' great ideas and genius fragments of horse dialogues, this fic has been born. She also cast a kind eye upon it and since she didn't chase me around with a broom, I think it's ready to be posted. I have no explanation for it other than it's a bit of siliness for the start of 2020! Enjoy and let me know if you did!

“...and then, believe it or not, he whispers  _ Arwen!” _ Brego shook his head in dismay. Hasufel stomped in his box, scandalized. With a sigh, the brown steed went on. “I mean, how would  _ you _ feel when you kissed your crush and you heard them say the name of some Elvish chick? I saved his dirty ass, damnit!” He huffed, prompting Arod to whinny comfortingly.    
“We know how you feel, buddy,” Hasufel said, his eyes filling with compassion.    
“Yah,” Arod joined in, “should’ve stayed in Edoras! We know how it goes, they sweet-talk you in the tongue of the Elves and it’s so  _ hot, _ but in the end, only a Rohirrim can love you forever.” Hearing that, other horses nodded emphatically, some of them kicking the doors of the boxes they were housed in. Brego huffed. 

“Now, when he comes and asks for a ride I just play I'm not interested anymore.” He turned his head up and circled the floor, messing the hay strewn around. There was a loud snort coming from the opposite end of the stables, and a moment later, Brego rolled his eyes exasperatedly. 

“Riiiight! This is why you basically  _ pranced _ out of here yesterday when he came to take you to the Pelennor Fields…” Barad noted, sounding very smug.   
“Oh, come on!” Arod piped in, irritated. “Don’t be like that! You know we can’t help it when they speak Elvish… I’d like to see  _ you _ putting up a resistance when you hear those wicked words in that sweet voice.” He commented dryly, shaking his head. Brego just sighed, hanging his head.    
“Yeah, yeah, yeah…” Barad huffed out. “I know, I know, those  _ sweet, lovely words…  _ What are you, a dog? It’s time to put your hoof down, mate.”   
“Aye!” Daisy joined in, his voice way too cheerful for the early hours. “Put your hoof down, Breg, and kick him finally!”    
“Shut up, Daisy!” Hasufel shouted, rolling his eyes. “Nobody asked you.”    
“Well, no, but it’s not like this is a private place, you know?”    
_ “Shut up!” _ Arod scolded. “All of you! Someone’s coming!” 

Instantly falling silent, they all turned to watch the gate to the stables opening, sticking their heads out over the doors of their stalls. Two figures walked in, the king and the prince, and Hasufel neighed happily, stomping to get their attention.   
“Someone’s eager,” Faramir said, smiling, reaching out to pat him. Hasufel snorted, closing his eyes when those sure fingers migrated down his neck and threaded through his mane. Barad huffed, turning away and walking further into his box.   
“Slut,” he commented, busying himself with his trough. Brego remained in place, trying to look uninterested, but as soon as Aragorn stepped closer, a sweet smell hit his nose, and his knees almost went weak.   
“Mae govannen,” the king murmured, taking something out of the pocket of his coat. Immediately, Brego knew just what the smell had been - _apples!_ “There you go, mellon nîn.” Aragorn said, bringing the fruit up. 

Brego tried to be strong, he tried not to let those beautiful words affect him. He knew that the other horses were watching him, he was well aware of their eyes following his every movement.  He turned his head up, proudly, but then Aragorn’s fingers somehow found their way into his mane, and his palm was so warm on this cold morning, and he whispered something that sounded like the song of the Valar themselves… 

By the time he knew what was happening, Brego’s mouth was full of the crunchy, ripe apple, his nostrils flaring in satisfaction, eyes closing in pleasure.    
“Yep,” Arod commented. “There’s no way he wouldn’t fall for that…” 

Half an hour later, they were riding out - Brego with the king, and Hasufel to his right, with Faramir sitting astride his back.  The taste of apples was still fresh on his tongue, and Brego refused to feel ashamed for giving in. 

-&-

“Oh gods! Hasufel try this!” Brego neighed, getting his friend’s attention. Hasufel trotted closer, leaving the small stream behind.    
“What is it?” He asked curiously, sniffing the small bush. It was no more than some kind of an overgrown weed, but it smelled amazing. Hasufel took the very tip of one one of the stalks between his teeth and bit it off, munching on it thoughtfully. Brego scoffed, knowing exactly what reaction he was going to get. Sure enough, a moment later, Hasufel’s eyes widened and he ripped into the plant with gusto, stuffing his mouth with the fresh leaves.    
“Oh…  _ Oh!  _ It’s so…”   
“Mhmmm!” Brego agreed, nodding, too busy eating to answer properly.    
“And the taste!” Hasufel mumbled around a mouthful, gulping it down and leaning in for more. Brego snorted.    
“Leave something for me…  _ hey!” _

They both took a step back, surprised, when a hand appeared in front of them. Soon enough, a second one made itself known, a blade of a knife shining between strong fingers. Hasufel blinked down at it, his mouth falling open in astonishment when the blade hacked through the bush and cut off a bigger part of it.    
“No! No, wait! What are you doing!?” Brego asked next to him, his gaze following the leaves clutched in Faramir’s grasp longingly. “Hasi? He’s taking it away… why would he do that?”    
“Don’t be sad, Breg, there’s some of it left, still,” Hasufel pointed out, nodding his head at the remnants. Brego eyed the few remaining leaves skeptically. 

“Aragorn! Look!” Faramir shouted, walking away. “I found us some mint for tea!” 

_ “He _ found it?  _ He _ found it?” Hasufel scoffed, shaking his head and stomping away. “Eat the rest, Brego. I’ll look for some fresh grass for later.” And with that, he disappeared behind a tree. Brego watched him go, knowing he wouldn’t be far. They never were - being a royal horse obliged them to be within earshot of their master, always ready to come back. With a sigh, he looked back at the few sad leaves still remaining on the stalks. Shrugging, he chomped them off and followed his friend. 

-&-

The night, when it came, was peaceful. Brego slept soundly for about two hours, then woke up refreshed and happy. He found himself a patch of grass and grazed it, satisfied when the heavy clouds hanging above them started to move away. He chanced a look at the camp, frowning when  he spotted Aragorn sitting up with his pipe, the smoke curling around him like a halo. He  _ loved _ that man… It was a bit of a surprise really, because he hadn’t even really  _ liked _ his previous master. Theodred was too soft and too whiny to be a king. Sure, Brego still felt bad that he hadn’t managed to get him out of the hot spot before the worst had happened, but he wouldn’t change the way things had turned out. 

Aragorn was a good man, always bringing him apples or carrots when the day was gloomy. And he was speaking to him. Always. It wasn’t like Brego was the most talkative of his kind, but he didn’t like it when people just jumped on him and expected him to ride on into battle. He wasn’t a  _ mule, _ thank you very much. Aragorn was different, though. He did not only know how to talk, letting his voice get that melodic tone when he turned to Sindarin, but he also had all the right words. 

“Daydreaming again?” Hasufel asked behind him, tearing him out of his thoughts. Brego snorted quietly, shaking his head and swishing his tail for good measure.    
“It’s not daytime yet,” he observed pointedly. Hasufel rolled his eyes.    
“It’s a  _ phrase. _ I heard them use it a few times,” he said, nodding in the direction of Aragorn and Faramir. Brego followed with his gaze, a sigh escaping him. Hasufel eyed him in surprise. 

“You really got it bad, don’t you, Breg?”    
“Can’t help it, Hasi. He’s so ideal! And a good king, too! You’ve seen him fight, haven’t you?”    
“Aye,” Hasufel confirmed, turning to the side and tearing off a bit of grass. “He rode on me after that fight with orcs. He’s a good man.”    
“Yeah…” Brego sighed again, wistfully. He almost seemed to melt on the spot and Hasufel shook his head, incredulous.    
“Mate. You’re a horse, he’s a  _ human. _ What do you expect to happen?” 

Hearing that, Brego stomped the ground in irritation, turning around and walking a few steps towards a tall tree under which they had made camp the evening before. He rubbed his neck against the bark.    
“I don’t know, Hasufel. I would be content to just… _ run,  _ you know?” He glanced at his friend, then at Aragorn. “We were good together after I took him out of that river. We ran for miles and miles… It was  _ amazing!” _   
“What spoiled it, then?” Hasufel asked, munching on the grass.    
“That  _ Elven chick. _ He kept talking about her, over and over again. Don’t get me wrong, I like how his voice sounds… so soothing! But to hear what a beauty she was again and again…”    
“Distasteful!” Hasufel huffed, shaking his head.    
“Yeah. I like him talking about Faramir better. Faramir likes to pet me. And he always has carrots in his pockets!”    
“Yup!” Hasufel agreed with a quiet, happy neigh, remembering the treats his master brought him on a daily basis. “He’s sweet.”    
“Aye.” 

They stood like that for a moment longer, grazing on the grass, perking up every now and then to make sure no predators were approaching. Thankfully, the field around them seemed to be quiet and peaceful, and there was not much to do. The boredom brought Brego’s gaze back to Aragorn time and time again, before Hasufel poked him in the side finally, getting his attention.    
“Come on, Breg. I think I saw a bush of mint near that stream we drank from.” 

-&-

“Come now, Brego! What has gotten into you?” Aragorn cried out, exasperated, when his horse danced in place instead of walking through a small, almost completely dried-up stream.   
“Orcs! Don’t you smell them?” Brego whinnied, stomping his feet loudly, making a few stones tumble around.   
“Brego!”   
“Something’s wrong, my king,” Faramir observed, halting his steed, watching Brego worriedly.   
“Yes, something’s wrong indeed, my honey-haired, cotton-headed friend,” Hasufel observed dryly, throwing his head up for emphasis. “There are orcs nearby and none of you can smell them, because you’re both too dumb and helpless.”   
“Hasi! We have to _do_ something, otherwise they will ride all of us straight into trouble!” Brego worried, standing on his hind legs. Aragorn shouted in surprise.   
“Brego! Man ceril? Settle down, will you?!” 

“Why can’t you  _ smell _ them? Aragorn they stink like dead meat!” Brego squealed, turning around and trying to walk in the opposite direction. A tug on the reins brought him short and he twisted back, resigned. Hasufel laughed.    
“Every. Time.”    
_ “Shut up.” _

Finally, reluctantly, Brego let himself be steered back on their path, his ears shifting nervously as he tried to listen to their surroundings.    
“Calm down, maybe that was a  _ dead _ orc?” Hasufel inquired, stepping closer to him for a moment, bumping his head against Brego’s neck.    
“You smelled it, too!”    
“Aye. We’ll keep our wits about us and we’ll be fine,” he tried to reassure, but he could feel a shiver running through him anyway. He neighed happily when Faramir leaned forward and patted him gently in reassurance. 

It was much later when they finally took a break for another night. The road had been thankfully uneventful, and Brego felt himself breathe more easily. He grazed grass for a few hours, slowly munching on it, savoring the fresh, crispy taste. When he felt full finally, he turned his head up, looking for Hasufel, spotting him just a few yards away from the blankets on which Faramir was sleeping. Aragorn was seated right next to him, smoking again, his gaze stuck in the prince.    
“Oh dear,” Hasufel muttered as soon as Brego trotted over and rubbed his head against him in greeting. “They are watching each other sleep… How  _ embarrassing.” _ He snorted in distaste, turning his head to Faramir’s travelling bag lying a foot away.    
“What are you doing?” Brego inquired, curious, when he saw Hasufel trying to grab at the lacing.    
“I smell carrots,” his friend mumbled around the twine between his teeth. Brego perked up.    
“Wait, let me help!” 

-&-

“I can keep watch for a bit longer, if you want to sleep some more,” Aragorn reassured, but Faramir shook his head, a fond smile spreading over his lips.    
“No. It’s my turn now. Besides, you need to get some sleep, too,” he pointed out, grinning when Aragorn yawned as if on cue.    
“Alright,” the king agreed, chuckling, knowing well when he was beaten. He wrapped himself up in his cloak and curled up on the blanket, whispering a quiet “thanks” when Faramir reached over him and pulled his own blanket over his shoulders for warmth. 

He was asleep before he knew it, and Faramir sat there, looking around from time to time, his gaze always returning to his king when it wasn’t busy scanning their surroundings for possible threats. Hasufel scoffed.    
“Look, Brego. They’re taking  _ turns _ watching each other now.  _ Awful.” _

-&-

“So… how come you know Daisy?” Brego asked, unexpectedly. They were walking at a slow pace, Faramir and Aragorn engaged in  a conversation about Elves that he didn’t want to focus too much on lest his knees go weak on every Elvish word he heard.  Hasufel huffed out, then threw his head up with a grunt.    
“I’ve been fighting alongside him in Helm’s Deep.”    
“Fighting?” That surprised Brego. “Who would take him into battle?”    
“I don’t know… some kind of a suicidal guy, I believe.” Hasufel shook his head. “You know, he kept asking me  _ when would the fight start, _ or  _ when would we charge, _ and when it came to it, he almost went into the opposite direction.” Hearing that, Brego neighed merrily, amusement shaking his whole body.    
“Let me guess, he chickened out?”    
“What? Oh, no! He simply didn’t know which way to go, and when I told him, he had objections over running full speed into orcs…”    
“Don’t tell me…”    
“Aye! He was afraid of  _ hurting _ them,” Hasufel said, snickering. Brego laughed so loudly he sneezed, which prompted Aragorn to pause in his explanations and look down at him with concern. 

“What is wrong with you lately?” The king asked, worried.    
“Maybe he’s got a cold?” Faramir piped in. Brego scoffed, rolling his eyes.    
_ “You _ have got a cold. Explains why your nose is all stuffy and you can’t smell those damn  _ orcs!” _ Brego commented snidely. Hasufel frowned.    
“The scent is more faint here, Breg. Maybe it  _ was _ a dead orc?”    
“Nah. I know what I smelled. They may be further away, but they are here,” Brego answered, looking around nervously.    
“At least we don’t have Daisy with us,” his friend observed. “I would be worried about him. He can’t fight at all.” 

Brego nodded, but then something came to his mind.    
“Why is he called like that anyway?” He asked, genuinely curious. Hasufel snorted.    
“On his first day with a saddle, he tried to get rid of it so badly, he just collapsed in a field of daisies and started to roll over.”   
“No shit!” Brego’s eyes widened.    
“Yep! He didn’t succeed with throwing off the saddle, but he managed to get so many flowers stuck to it, he looked like one giant daisy!” 

Brego was ready to answer, when a very sharp tug almost tore the bite out of his mouth. He halted, scoffing, looking back at Aragorn angrily.    
“A bit of a warning, mate!” He whinnied, eyes narrowing. “I’m not an orc, I don’t drop dead on the spot!” 

Aragorn, naturally, ignored the sharp look, unmounting and walking a few paces to the side, following a trail known only to him. Hasufel stomped the ground, shifting in place.    
“He looks intrigued.”    
“Maybe he is finally getting what we’ve tried to tell him about those damn orcs?” 

A moment later, Aragorn was coming back, shaking his head almost sadly to Faramir.    
“Sorry, not a blueberry bush,” he muttered, getting back in the saddle.    
“‘Tis a shame,” Faramir replied, shrugging. Brego couldn’t believe his own ears.    
“Did you hear that, Hasi?” He asked, incredulous. Hasufel only sighed, stepping forward when prompted. 

-&-

They stopped for the night when it was completely dark. Faramir busied himself with preparing food, and Aragorn wandered off to collect wood for a small fire. He was walking back soon, arms loaded with branches and twigs, and Brego couldn’t stop the amused neigh from leaving him when he saw the king stumbling over a root and landing on his face. He fell through a small bush, almost into Faramir’s lap, and the prince was so startled he spilled the pot of water he had been holding, sending droplets of it flying everywhere. 

“Look at them, Hasufel. Two  _ rangers  _ in the wild!”    
“They’re hopeless,” his friend commented, munching on the grass. 

-&-

It was the next evening when the orcs finally made themselves known. Brego was just done treading carefully through muddy patches and walking cautiously on the wet grass, trying not to lose his balance and land on his side in one of the many puddles around them, when Hasufel stomped the ground next to him. It was raining heavily, and Brego wasn’t surprised that his friend had lost his footing, so he limited himself to casting a reassuring glance his way. That was when he saw them. 

Orcs. 

A whole band of them, running straight ahead, clearly meaning to smash into him and Hasufel. He gave a whinny and reared back, turning to get a better look, catching Hasufel’s attention. They both whirled around, earning a surprised groan from their riders, but thankfully, Aragorn and Faramir caught on quickly and grabbed their swords. 

The fight that ensued was the fiercest in Brego’s life. There were at least ten orcs, a few wargs among them, and there was only one thing on their minds - to kill the men. Brego wouldn’t have it. He stomped the ground angrily and used all of his size to look as menacing as he could, kicking when he was able to, catching a few of their enemies off-guard. 

Hasufel wasn’t idle, either - he stood on his hind legs and aimed his hooves at whichever orc that dared to come too close, somehow managing to right himself every time Faramir tipped dangerously back. After a few moments it became clear that they would not win like that, and  Aragorn jumped off his back, sending him away with a slap to his ass. Brego huffed and jumped to the side, smashing his hoof into an ugly, orcish face, before he was back on the battlefield, keeping their lords safe. 

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Faramir being pulled down from his saddle as Hasufel went down. Panicked, Brego ran to them, only to discover that his friend was already rolling back and standing up, turning so he could charge one of the wargs. Satisfied, Brego marched forward, kicking one of the orcs that tried to stab Faramir with his sword. The steel went flying and the creature fell down on its ass in the mud, slipping and unable to stand up again. Brego lashed out again, throwing his head up in satisfaction when he heard the crunch of breaking bones. 

Turning his head, he could see Hasufel standing close to Aragorn, blocking two orcs that tried to get to him, while the king fought with a mean-faced warg. The beast was soon dead and so Aragorn whirled around, side-stepping Hasufel and embedding his sword in the nearest orc, then turning his attention to the other one. Happy that everything was evidently under control, Brego looked around warily, trying to assess whether any more of those foul creatures were still ambling around, then, not trusting the silence that met him, shivering in the rain that was still falling down profusely, he lowered his head and poked Faramir gently on his side. 

Nothing. 

The prince looked pale and was clearly unconscious. His face as wet, his clothes getting soggy with the mud he was lying in, and Brego didn’t see another way of helping him, other than standing watch and waiting till Aragorn was done slaying their enemies. With a sigh, he positioned himself over the prince, hoping he could at least shield him from the deluge and any unexpected attack. 

-&-

Aragorn groaned softly when he tugged his sword out of the still body in front of him. This was the last of the orcs - or at least he hoped so. Turning around, seeing Hasufel standing guard next to him, his keen eyes scanning the field around them, the king had to smile. He reached out and patted the horse, frowning when he realized that Faramir was no longer in the saddle. Walking around, he spotted Brego a few yards away, standing among orcish corpses, a still-twitching warg collapsed right next to him. Tightening the grip on Andúril, Aragorn walked forth, intent on ending the beast properly, lest it attack them again. 

Right when he was with drawing his arm to swing his weapon, a muddy bundle of clothes between Brego’s legs caught his attention. Aragorn ran. 

-&-

When Faramir opened his eyes again, he was lying in a small but warm room, on a bed that was firm but smelled of herbs and flowers he couldn’t really place. There was dried thyme and rosemary hanging under the roof right next to a small window, and he was covered in a thick sheepskin.  He frowned, turning his head to look around, then winced when his neck throbbed painfully. Feeling suddenly dizzy, he closed his eyes for a moment, just to open them abruptly when a hand appeared on his shoulder. 

“You’re awake! Thank Eru! We were afraid you were close to dying!” A young woman cried, making his headache worse, but Faramir forced himself to smile stiffly. “That good lord riding with you… he was very worried! We had to force him to take a walk, or else he would not leave you even for a moment… Our healer couldn’t really get to you at first!” She went on, fluffling up Faramir’s pillow, righting the sheepskin and patting his arm once she was done. “Our men heard that someone was fighting with orcs, so they grabbed whatever was near and went to help, but the rain was dreadful! They wouldn’t have found you had it not been for your horse,” the woman explained, sitting on the edge of the bed, her hands moving around wildly. Faramir’s frown deepened.    
“Hasufel?” He asked curiously. The woman shrugged. “Was it brown?”    
“They said it was dark, almost black, and that it had a mark on its forehead, a white flare not unlike a shield… They said it was what made them notice it in the first place!” 

Hearing that, Faramir nodded, recognizing Brego.  _ Good horse, _ he thought silently, smiling softly. It looked like he owed him a few carrots. 

“The lord travelling with me… do you know where he is?” He asked after a moment. The woman bowed her head and stood up quickly.    
“Yes. When the healer shooed him away, he took to the stables to take care of your horses. I shall go and fetch him.” 

And then she was gone, turning around and walking out briskly, her skirt flowing behind her. Faramir sighed, bracing his arms against the bed and trying to sit up. 

-&-

“Le hannon, mellon nin,” Aragorn whispered, threading his fingers through Brego’s mane. The horse neighed happily, munching on an apple his king had provided. Aragorn smiled at him softly. “Do you know? I loved you from the first moment I saw you… like Faramir. Had something happened to either of you, I would be devastated. Thank you for helping us tonight. You are by far the bravest horse I have seen.” 

Brego tossed his head up hearing that, then grunted, nuzzling his head against Aragorn’s shoulder. Another head poked his side and the king turned around, laughing, spotting Hasufel.    
“Aye! You were brave, too, and I thank you both! Here!” He reached into his pocket and produced two more apples, giving one each, grinning when the horses bit into them quickly. 

A cough from the doorway caught his attention and he whirled around, facing the young woman that had so generously taken them into her house. She looked pointedly at the horses, then raised her eyebrows, and Aragorn smiled sheepishly.    
“Forgive me, good woman, but I appear to have stolen your apples,” he said, well aware that there was no shame to be found in the tone of his voice. She shook her head at him, but there was a smirk on her lips.    
“Just pray that my husband doesn’t learn about it. He would have your hide for stealing apples put aside for winter, especially when the harvest was so poor this year!” She said, chuckling, to which Aragorn nodded. 

Turning around, he walked to his saddle, now placed on a low stool next to Brego’s box, and retrieved a leather pouch from within one of his bags. He bowed low when handing it over to the woman.    
“Your husband would be right in his anger. Please, take this as a token of my gratitude for helping us today and as a consolation for stealing your food. There should be enough inside to tide you over until the wintertime has passed.” 

It was with a gasp that the pouch was opened, and the woman looked inside with wide eyes.    
“My lord! That is too much! I cannot accept it!” She muttered, eyeing coins stashed inside, glittering with gold even in the meager light of the few burning candles. Aragorn shook his head.    
“It is far too little, for you have saved four lives today, two of which were the King of Gondor and the Prince of Ithilien.”   
“My lord!” The woman cried and fell to her knees. Aragorn sighed, then grabbed her by her shoulders and stood her up again.    
“It is me who should bow to you, and I would gladly spend the rest of the night on my knees in the mud, but I have to get back to Faramir. How is he?”   
“This is why I have come here, my king! He is awake and asked for you.”    
“Thank you!” 

And with that, Aragorn walked out quickly, leaving the astonished woman in the stables. 

-&-

“Look at them!” Brego said, gazing through a small, dusty window. Hasufel walked over, noticing that the house was aligned perfectly with the stable so that they could see inside through the window in the bedroom. Aragorn was sitting on the edge of the bed, Faramir held tightly in his arms, the king’s lips touching his forehead time after time.    
“So what do you think?” He asked, curious. Brego snorted.    
“They are as sweet as the apples Aragorn gave us,”  he commented, to which Hasufel laughed merrily.    
“Aye! That they are.”    
“But you know? I am alright with it. He told me he loves me, right?”    
“Yeah, I heard that, too,” Hasufel confirmed, tossing his head to the side.    
“If he loves Faramir as much as I love him, then I think they should be together. I have gotten a lot more than any horse could dream of, anyway.”    
“And what is that?” Hasufel frowned, sniffing around the box. Brego fell silent for a moment, watching how the king kissed the prince slowly, mouth to mouth. Then he turned around, satisfied to see them both happy. 

“Earlier, he promised me that he will never leave me. And he told me that we have many adventures to live yet.”    
“And apples,” Hasufel huffed, poking Brego in the ribs with his head. “Don’t forget all those apples he smuggled out for us.”    
“Aye! The apples were good, too!” Brego answered with a whinny, turning to Hasufel.    
“So what do we do now?”    
“We sleep. And, once Faramir is well again, we will continue on to Rohan.”    
“Good idea. Want to curl up together for warmth?” Hasufel asked, his eyes hopeful. Brego knew that with the thick blankets they had been covered with, there was no fear of them freezing during the night, but he nodded anyway.    
“Sure! Let’s look for some good hay first!” 


End file.
